“I may have to go, dear.”
“But why—why, when we love you so much? Aren’t you happy?”
“When I am with you, yes. But there are all sorts of things that you wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh, but I could!”
“Perhaps some day you will.”
“But, Miss Eve, you won’t really go, will you?”
Canterton came in at the white gate, and Eve’s eyes reproached him over the glowing head of the child. “It is ungenerous of you,” they said, “to let the child try and persuade me.”
She hugged Lynette with sudden passion.
“I don’t want to go, dear, but some big devil fairy is telling me I shall have to.”
She was shy of Canterton, and ready to hide behind the child, for there was a grim purposefulness about his idealism that made her afraid. His eyes hardly left her, and, though they held her sacred, they would have betrayed everything to the most disinterested of observers.